Superman: Arisen
by ImperfectSystem
Summary: Your name is Kal-El. You are the only survivor of the planet Krypton. Even though you've been raised as a human, you are not one of them. They can be a great people, Kal-El, they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all, their capacity for good, I have sent them you, my only son. My take on the Superman mythos.
1. PROLOGUE

**Prologue:**

**HOUSE OF EL**

* * *

><p>It tore me apart, watching my world rip itself into pieces right before my eyes. The Imprisonment of General Zod had done little to diminish the rebellion he started. Sometimes I find myself sympathising with their cause, a stand against Krypton's dictators, were it not for the fact that they weren't fighting for peace or liberty, or what was right. They embodied chaos in its basic yet unnatural form. Murder, corruption—they sought a way to throw us all in degradation. Seeing as only those who joined in their rebellion would be allowed to live, whose House shall be allowed to flourish.<p>

I sighed.

It all started with the prohibition of space travel a mere century ago. The destruction of the space ports and interstellar research centres by the Council. We were completely cut off from the rest of the cosmos, left to fend for ourselves even in the harshest of times, and Zod was not helping.

Still, I could not shake off the feeling of dread and confusion in my head. The calculations were solid. There was no question. Sometimes I even feel it in the ground. We had harvested the planet for far too long without giving time for the planet to recover. That and the constant explosions and chemical warfare has accelerated the process of implosion. We were all going to die.

I had presented my findings to the Council. As a well-known and respected scientist at the United Institute, I expected to be taken a little more seriously, but I was laughed off. Even the Book of Rao explained that the planet would die if we didn't look after it, then there was the fact it also said that the sun was slowly drawing the planet closer. If it wasn't the core's reacting, then it's the sun's blazing inferno. But I was made a laughing stock. When I continued to push on they even threatened to imprison me in the Phantom Zone with Zod and his Rebel leaders. Funny, it was I who discovered the algorithm to open it. When the Council took the formula, I explained it's possible use to imprison deadly criminals in them, there they will have the opportunity to begin anew without bringing harm to Krypton. A more than fair enough deal if you ask me. But now I would be trapped in the very thing I helped bring in.

From my balcony I watched the events unfold. A simple protest against artificial population had escalated fast, what started off as citizens voicing complaint became an inquisition killing the majority. What had the world become?

I walk inside to find my study empty. I knew what I had to do, with so little resources left. I looked at the small spacecraft in the centre of the room. There were similar crafts all over Krypton, as a means of transportation, but five thousand feet above the first atmosphere would was the limit before malfunctioning. This one however, was the only one capable of space travel.

With a limited amount of time and resources, I was only able to make such a small ship, I was left with one conclusion.

I hear the door open and in come a beautiful dark haired woman. I smile as my wife greets me, a covered baby in her hands.

She was part of the Kryptonian police once, my wife, before marrying me. But the corruption and the fanaticism were too much for her. In fact it was when she was assigned to protect me and my research team that that our government showed their true faces.

They had attempted to enslave our kind with a tool to control minds. They used a super computer, hybrid with sentient supremacy—a brainiac, to override our conciseness and replace them with purposes. All of those purposes had us bowing down to the Council like they were gods. Blasphemy to Rao.

'Is it finished,' she asks, approaching me with a suggestive sway in her hips.

I groaned in my hands, tired. 'Almost,' I respond, 'just a few more alterations.'

'By Rao, Jor, you need to rest, take a break for a while. A breather.' Even with that tone I look at her and it doesn't escape me how beautiful she is. I praised Rao for my luck in winning the heart of the most beautiful creature on this planet. I have to tell you, she is hot and I question why a woman of her beauty would court let alone marry such a nerd like me.

'Lara, I can't. Not yet,' I snap but then my tone calms. 'This planet will explode within thirty days, if not sooner. I can't…' I was very, very stressed. Pinching the top of the bridge of my nose with my fingers, I sighed. 'The Council will not help us. I've given the blueprints to my brother for his own ship, hopefully theirs can hold them all.'

I watch as Lara's face falls. 'So there is only space for one?'

I nodded, simply, my head down, looking at the scribbles on my data-pad. 'The Council will never allow its citizens to leave, not now.'

'But, Kal is only a child, Jor!' She hugged her son closer to her breasts, kissing him on his naked head. 'Unless your ship teleports outside the planet's atmosphere, I don't see a way he could get out safely. And even if he does, the course to Earth will be long. He'll die out there. And when he does make it, on Earth he'll be different. They'll call him a freak.'

I shook my head. I had done the math. 'He will be fast, virtually invulnerable—'

'He will be isolated, sad, and alone.'

'No,' again I shook my head and walked over to the ship where there was a control panel beside it. I pressed a button and a green crystal appeared in the middle. I took the mineral and examined its components. 'He will not be alone…. He will never be alone.' I see the top of the crystal begin to reshape. Its top surface now took the appearance of my symbol—the symbol of the House of El.

'Then what of the rebellion? No ship will ever make it out of the orbit. If the journey doesn't get him, then our own people will!'

'I know.' I stand up and walk over to her. I take them both within my arms. My loves, my family—people I'd do anything, risk anything for. 'But we have to try, Lara.'

'I know, but I just can't.' It was then that I knew her complaints had more levels than what she displayed. She looks into Kal's bright eyes full of wonder. He had his mother's blue eyes, as bright and blue as the Seas of Corinth. 'We'll never get to see him walk…' she whispers, tears forming under her eyes. 'We'll never hear him say our names.'

I open the spacecraft and inspect the inside. There was room in there, at least room enough to grow. I look at my wife, distraught with a grief she shouldn't be feeling yet. It pained me, a lot, but ultimately it had to be done. Were all intellectuals so heartless? I could never tell. I walk to her, an understanding smile on my face, I try to calm her, to reassure her…as well as myself. 'Lara, out there, amongst the stars…he will live.'

I give her a long kiss on her lips. There was so much, so much in that kiss. This was going to be the last moment where I finally had the family I had ever wanted. And now Krypton was going to tear it from my very arms.

Such a cruel universe.

I took my red cape bearing my House's Sigil and wrap young Kal-El in it. Lara then placed our child within the spacecraft's cockpit. With the crystal in my hands, the information needed to teach and train our child, prepare him for his life on Earth, I inserted the device into the ship's main computer drive.

I was using a specific brainiac program, different to the ones most of the universe was using—Brainiac Type 5. Hopefully it will not corrupt.

We both step up to our son's side, me holding Lara close to me as I feel the rumble beneath us. Apparently the planet's final process was accelerated even more. Once we had thirty or so days. Now I pray we be granted a few hours.

'You will travel far, my little Kal,' I said, allowing my words to reach him.

Then Lara started, trying hard to hold back her tears. 'We will never leave you...' he voice quivering, '…even in the face of our death.'

'The richness of our lives shall be yours. All that we have, all that we've learned, everything I feel... all this, and more, I...' Then I too feel my resolve weaken. I look to my son, smiling up at us. My heart breaks. '…We bequeath you, my son. You will carry us inside you, all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own, and see my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father, and the father the son.' I then feel my wife's soft touch on my cheeks, wiping away the tears I never knew were there. I close my eyes, trying to fight these tears back as I finish. 'This is all I... all I can send you, Kal-El.'

I then close the ship and it begins to hover into launch position. With Lara in my arms she whispers to me, 'You know they'll come for him as soon as the computers pick up the launch signal.'

'…I know.'

And so it started.

I opened the ceiling hatch for departure and on cue, the doors began knocking. The authorities had arrived. I found it surprising that they could find the time considering they were at war! So while I got the ship ready, putting in the coordinates, Lara had taken out her battle armour and gun.

'You sure you can handle them?' I asked her to which she turns to me with that infuriating minx of a smile she had.

'If Rao has blessed me with one thing, it's how to bash people up.' Oh do I love her.

'Jor-El, you are under arrest, forfeit the spacecraft or be prosecuted for violation of The Interstellar Restriction Act!' Once they breached our home, I rushed to make the calculations and once they engaged with my wife, I pressed the button and the space ship took off. At the same time we felt the rumbling in the ground. Krypton was dying and finally, like a veil was lifted off of the police, they saw and ceased their fighting.

'What's going on?!' cried one of the policemen.

Lara drops her gun and walks up to me. She puts her hand in mine and we both stare at the ship above us. The first vehicle with space travel capabilities Krypton has ever seen in centuries. It would be the vessel of their final hopes. 'Make a better world than ours Kal.' I hear her whispers of hope, a last request, and I can't help it. As our planet begins to implode, I hold her close to me. Huge collumns of fire spit out of the grounds around us, the earth opens up and swallows up my people.

I take Lara's lips in mine. This is our final moments here, and…sorry, I'm out of time…

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: There were so many things I did not like about Man of Steel, not that I hated the entire film, I loved it, but I had a few problems with the writing and some of the concepts. I understood the whole thing about making Superman more darker and realistic but I saw a lot of Superman fans that didn't have a fun time watching it. Superman was supposed to be about hope, about a brighter future. And the whole saving humanity or being a better form of being had always come from the Kents first and foremost, I didn't get that with Jon Kent's speech about letting people die for his secrets. And the whole Jor-El being able to kick ass, I found a little bit too unrealistic. Still, I hope Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice does a better job at conveying the meaning of Superman. <strong>


	2. Artificial Intel

**Chapter One**

**ARTIFICIAL INTEL**

_**LOCATION:**_

_**METROPOLIS, Industrial District**_

_**21:00pm**_

The city never sleeps, like any great city does, it livens up the most when the moon shines bright above them. The stores and markets were bustling with life, people cheering and gossiping in the streets, all the signs of a healthy city life.

In the Industrial District however, the opposite is true. Quiet streets left the roads deserted, the many factories, dormant for the night, allowing the machines to rest and be ready for tomorrow.

There is an old industrial factory taking up over 98.3 acres of industrial land bought out by LexCorp, one of the biggest corporations in the world, ranking at third just above Wayne Enterprise. LexCorp was responsible for more than half of the city's infrastructure and power supply as well as scientific advancements.

LexCorp mostly dealt with weapons now. As growing tensions escalated with foreign relations, the US Defence Force demanded it. A competition now, pitting LexCorp against Wayne for the governmental contract.

This old abandoned factory or was it a laboratory, was one of LexCorp's ground zero for biological research. It was falling apart. Ready for eventual demolition once LexCorp gave the all clear. That was more than eight years ago, and the vicinity was still standing, a menace to the streets surrounding the district. However, there were reports of movement within, and at one time, the lights were on, giving out purple flashes followed by strange noises that soon caused houses from a ten kilometre radius to blow their transformers—overloaded with power. People swore the laboratory was haunted.

That night however, it was as quiet as a tomb, maybe more so. Clark broke the handle of one of the emergency exits. Funny how despite all of this technology, automatic doors, sensory surveillance, nothing beats a door handle in times of strife.

Clark walked down the corridors. A tall, built young man with jet black hair, chiselled face and eyes an abnormal shade of blue. Right now, the young man had on a pair of navy blue army pants tucked at the hem into black army boots. His blue T-shirt, hidden behind a maroon leather jacket with a diamond shield over his chest that housed a single letter S. The shield was emblazed upon it, discrete but not without meaning.

That night had been like any other night. Quiet, ever since he began his nights watch nearly two years ago, things had become quite silent.

'Alright, I'm in, Watchtower, but it looks like those reports seem to be exaggerated,' Clark said into an earpiece in his left ear. 'It's quiet.'

Soon a woman's voice responded, '_Alright, Nightwing, look around first then return to Watchtower_.'

Clark sighed but complied and continued down the empty walkways, along the red piping that led to a door. It was one of glass, a sliding door. Judging by the lack of door knob and the metal plate beside it, the doors opened electronically by use of fingerprints.

There were letters on the glass indicating its designation—it was covered by dust and webs. Curious, Clark wiped the covers away to reveal the words Project CADMUS.

With ease, the young man punctured his fingers through the gap on the side and slid the doors open. What he found inside had opened up a whole lot of questions. 'Um, what did your dad say this place used to be?'

'_He said it was a lab/factory of some kind. Bio research and mass production. My guess is either medications or performance enhancements—'_

'Actually, I don't know what I'd categorise this,' Clark took a few more steps inside. There were rows after rows of humanoid foetuses floating in glass containers of liquid. It was clear that they had all died—probably when the place closed down. 'I mean…what had actually happened eight years ago?'

'_What do you see, Nightwing?_' inquired Watchtower.

Clark then produced a set of sunglasses from his pocket, Oakley Penny sunglasses they were, like what Cyclops wore in the X-Men franchise. 'Okay, I'm switching to video feed. Stand-by.'

He heard a gasp from the other side as he looked around him, the camera taking in his every sight.

'_Woa, I…I have no fucking clue what this is, Clark._'

He moved through the test tubes, slowly, carefully as if they'd wake up if he made sudden sounds. 'I think they were…cloning someone.'

There was a pause before, '_What makes you say that?_'

Clark had discovered someone's work desk in the corner, he saw the many files and folders, opened them and saw they were all categorising the test tube foetuses. 'I'm going through the DNA structure and information for each foetus. They're all replicated of a sample tissue. Replicating the process of Meiosis.'

'_I don't remember that in Luthor's CV._'

Clark shook his head at the files. Each documented photograph of the different test tubes had stamped across them a red cross or a 'DESIST' stamp. He did not have to pretend to know what that all meant. 'That's because it wasn't on his list.'

Immediately, Clark took out his iPhone and began tapping pictures, snapping up evidence for later. After all, his fight against organised crime didn't stop at the discovery. There was a long road to go after this. He opened the files and snapped more pictures. That was when he noticed a couple of CD roms on the side. _This must be the recorded data_, Clark inspected. It was also short after that the he detected something, a heavy breathing, coming from behind him. He was unsure why he hadn't picked it up a lot sooner. His enhanced hearing should have…

Out of nowhere, I powerful figure appeared and charged at him. Acting swiftly, Clark took the CDs and put them away in his pockets just in time for the figure to effectively tackle him off his feet, smashing through all twenty concrete walls and a single metallic outer wall.

Clark flew over the plains and crashed into the metal piping below, instantly denting them. He got himself up with a groan, rubbing his head from a splitting headache.

'_Nightwing?! Nightwing!_' He heard Leanna's voice ringing in his ear. '_Clark?!_' she cried.

Clark looked up at the hole he left behind. There was now a bright purple light…within that light shone that figure looking down at him. A menacing monster…no, it was humanoid, but he was…glowing, his bones, Clark could see them clearly, black as compared to the luminescent glow his entire body emitted.

Nightwing saw the figure's scull, despite this, he knew the figure was smiling, grinning at him mischievously. 'I'm fine, Lea.' I looked back at the monster. 'I think I know what's been making the disturbances.'

'_Whatever it is don't engage!_'

It would come to no shock that Clark did not listen. He examined his distance from the hole. He took a few steps back and leapt, causing a small crater to form below him moment before lift-off. He felt his body eave the ground and landed quite unceremoniously through the hole.

He was greeted immediately by the glowing figure throwing one hell of a punch. Luckily however, Clark managed to catch that throw and send the impact right back at them. Though even luckier for the glow torch there, obstructions were no longer an issue and he flew through the holes perfectly until smashing against the metal on the other side. Then, like lightning, Clark ran to it and held the creature's neck, hoisting it a few inches above the ground.

The manic creature squirmed in Nightwing's grasp. 'Tell me what you are and why you're snooping around here!'

The creature continued to squirm, then started crying as it struggled to escape, crying like a child. After some consideration, Clark sighed, annoyed. His sympathy got the better of him and Clark released his hold. 'It's alright, my friend,' he said reassuringly. 'You don't need to be afraid of me.' No sooner did he say this that the creature roared out and shoved him away before jumping and then fisting the ground where he was able to puncture holes down.

Clark cursed to himself as he got up and looked through the gap no on the floor. The glowing was getting smaller…until finally it vanished.

The tall figure in blue and red groaned at his mess, 'So much for sympathy.'

-=**O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

'What the hell was that?!' Leanna bereted the strapping young man before her. 'I told you not to engage, I was trying to compose readout on his signatures and I couldn't do that with you so close to him and tampering with my equipment.'

'He was emitting various radiations in the electromagnetic spectrum. One was probably high frequency radio waves.' Clark explained, taking off his maroon jacket and belt before placing them on the mannequin and shelf respectably, causing a mechanism that pulled both into the wall. 'Whatever it was, it's humanoid. Capable of both producing and manipulating energy frequencies and atoms.'

Shocked but not at all impressed, Leanna stood from her workstation of computer monitors with her hands on her hips. She was a small girl, a few inches smaller than Clark, with emerald eyes and dark crimson hair cut into a pixie hairdo. 'Oh, and how exactly do you know that?'

Clark shrugged, 'I saw it. The guy was scared a bit, Lea. My theory's that he's a victim of some sort of experiment down at that Cadmus place.'

'Well did you manage to _see_ where this Atomic Skull has disappeared to?'

Clark opened his mouth to answer but was reminded that, no, he did not know…anything else. He followed the tunnel the man left behind but lost the trail when they no longer held radioactive readings. 'Well…no…but I can get started tomorrow after work.'

Leanna sighed but agreed all the same. 'You have to be more careful next time, Kent. I almost lost you there.'

He hung his head in shame but then looked back up at her and drew her closer to him as they began to walk out of the huge circular chamber. 'Just because I'm not answering the microphone, doesn't necessarily mean I'm dead, Lea.' He told her, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead.

'I know,' she reassures. 'Need a ride home, Clark or are you good?'

Clark shook his head, quickly checking his phone. He had missed only one call. 'Nah…I think I'll head out to town.'

Lea smirked at him. 'Heather?'

Clark chuckled at his best friend's educated guess. 'Yeah, I'm taking her out to dinner. I've already missed two weeks now. I miss her awfully.'

'Well. Give Ms Kelley my best and wish her luck then,' said Lea. 'As for me…I need a long and relaxing bath.'

Clark then gave her a cheeky grin. 'Good, you sure need it,' he said, feigning disgust at her odour.

'Always have to have the last word, don't you, Smallville.'

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

In the heart of Metropolis, there was a bright young woman, her hair as gold as the sun, and a smile twice as radiant. Her beauty kept her apart from the rest of the faces around her as she adored the children she passed. Clark could not help but stare in wonder. How did he get so…lucky?

Finally he approached her from behind, rose behind his back; he tapped her on the shoulder with his free hand. When she turned to see him bow courteously, she blushed and returned the gesture with a curtsy though she wore no dress but blue jeans. She was treated even more by her boyfriend's presenting her with a single rose, its beautiful red petals dazzling her.

'Shall we, ma'am?' he offered her his hand which she graciously accepted. The couple walked off and toward a restaurant not too far from the mall areas. A classy…and expensive establishment, but Clark was confident he could pull off a very lovely evening for the love of his life.

**-=O=-**

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I own nothing in my works beside story. The characters expressed here are works attributed to DC Comics, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.**

**On another note, I am quite happy with the way this chapter turned out. I must confess I had not treated it with as much seriousness as I should, I mean I love Superman, he's my first superhero, but I felt discontent with how story tellers treat him at times. I hope you like my rendition so far. **

**When I thought of this idea I had in mind the red leather jacket that Tom Welling wore in Season 10 of Smallville. I felt it was a hell of a lot cooler and different than tights and the overused dark coloured tone of Superman's outfits, namely the one from Season 9. **


	3. Being Human

**Chapter Two**

**BEING HUMAN**

_**LOCATION:**_

_**METROPOLIS, LEXCORP BUILDING**_

_**21:35pm**_

'…I know the numbers don't seem very favourable, Merci, but I need you to look at the big picture here. We may seem vulnerable, maybe close to the edge of liquidation but trust me, we'll shoot back and Wayne Enterprise won't know what hit them.' A man burst into the study, clutching a phone against his ear while the other hand held a briefcase.

There was an armed body guard awaiting him by his desk. Luthor walked to the guard, standing only a few inches taller than him, much more tougher looking too. But unlike Lex, the man had an impressive supply of golden locks on his head. 'Sir, I have your security team stationed on ground and over third floor.'

'Good,' Lex then places his briefcase atop his desk and opens it up. Inside he takes out a folder complied for him at work. 'Has my daughter come back yet, Allen?'

'I'm afraid not, Mr Luthor.'

Lex groans but waves it off and opens to the first pages of the file. Immediately he was intrigued. He is left open mouthed as he stares at the picture attached to the file. 'This is very fascinating, Mr Jones.'

'Truly, sir.' The guard was as boring as a brick. But he had a very good hand and a deadly eye as well.

Lex examined the photo: a man stripped bare, lying on a cold metal slab, a pained expression on his face…well, what was left of his face. You see some parts of his flesh had been eaten away by radiation. An experimental compound not meant for contact to living flesh...not yet.

It happened some time ago, dear say he could not remember how it happened, all he knew was that it had the potential to ruin him.

'His name was Albert Michaels, Mr Jones. In charge of R&D, if I'm not mistaken. Tsst.' He remembered only partial actually. Freak accident, wrong place at the wrong time, just the standard debacles.

The phone rings and Lex answers at the second ring, always.

'…Tell them to move the meeting for tomorrow to Thursday morning, give them enough time to recruit help and gives us more time to counter them…' Lex barked, almost less animatedly as the guard. His face became stern again.

At the same time, the door swings open, temporarily distracting him was a young woman with short red hair. He looks at the landscaping window behind him, the dark serenity of night, then back at the girl.

'…Okay, Ms Tresser, that will be all, go home and good night.' He plops the phone down and positions himself into a reclining position on the chair. His eyes examine the teenager, stomping to her room, eyes not leaving the communications device in her hands. 'Where have you been, Leanna?'

The young woman pauses, eyes finally leaving the screen, now in thought. She then turns to face the imposing man with a mischievous grin. 'Oh, I was out, you know, hanging around boys at clubs, having fun. Isn't that what billionaire girls are supposed to do?'

'Do you enjoy tormenting me, Leanna?'

Her smile disappears systematically, like cold water splashed upon her face. 'The feeling's mutual, dad.' Then without another word she vanishes into the sanctuary of her room upstairs, ignoring her father's command for her attention and obedience.

Lex sighs, defeated as he retakes the files and attempts to drown that sour experience in work. Business seemed to have a sort of numbing sensation he craved, like drugs...only with a useful purpose.

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

In the dark and tight tunnel under the Metropolitan subway lines, the only light comes from a figure stumbling through the void. His whole body, glowing violet, somehow showcasing the skeletal system inside him like an X-ray…

And it hurt…it hurt so much. The pain was almost overbearing, almost. He had had near to nine years of getting used to the agony that he seemed to continue to feel.

He could see it, all of the little atoms, the streams of light and energy that seemed to connect everybody. Not just see, he could hear them talk, he could hear his name in their ramblings, hear his and hers.

_Albert_. They whisper. _Albert, she waits for you_. He can't take it, the whisperings. Before, he could only hear them when he comes close to a heavily concentrated and eradiated area. A pool of electromagnetic activity, but now, they're everywhere! _You failed her, Albert… You were warned when you played the game, perhaps unfairly, but you were warned all the same. And now…she pays for it. You failed her_. Michaels falls to the ground, clutching his head. _You failed her!_ The voices were getting louder, they were practically shouting at him, judging him with harsh daggers. _YOU FAILED HER!_

'No, no, no!' Something inside him broke at that moment. 'No, no, no, no, no, no…' he then started hammering his head against the rocky walls. He needed to end it. He needed to end it all; the whispering, the judging.

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

As Clark watched the film playing in the movie theatre, they held hands, Heather resting her head on his broad shoulders. He looks down at her, watching the events on screen with a giddy smile on her beautiful face. Clark readjusts his glasses, a lopsided grin flashes and then he continues to enjoy the film.

They could not help laugh at the movie as everyone else in the cinemas did. It was The Avengers film, and quite fun if he was honest. More than three movies had lead up to this event and Clark had gotten them the last tickets at the last minute. Considering he was busy trying to stop a would-be suicide bomber from making a very life shattering mistake, he was lucky…to get his hands on the tickets, that is.

As for the terrorist? There was so much of his religion that he knew nothing about, and Clark was in no position to disprove his beliefs but what he did know was that he's had many friends that followed this creed…and they were great people. They taught him quite a lot about morals and will.

Thus he let the man go, returned to his family with a number for therapy for…PTSD. A former marine is entitles to some troubles left behind by war.

Clark chuckled. Despite all of his strength and abilities, his most valued, most vital ability is his words. Why because it's hard, because it's powerful.

'So,' Heather leaned up, closer to his ear, 'you want to stay for the post-credit scenes or should we go to my place, Kent?' he chuckled and moved in to kiss her briefly on the cheek. She made a mock pouty face, her brows furrowing, 'Oh, only the cheek? I'll take that as undecided.'

Again, Clark chuckles and attempts to amend his choice and kiss her on the lips, only to have her cheekily turn her head, allowing his lips to graze her cheek instead. 'Fine, we'll go to your place…but after this.'

Quite glad, she nodded and then returned his previous gesture and planted her lips on his own cheeks.

That night had gone on as smoothly as he could expect. He was quite glad about it all. Not to be worried too much about missions or identities. That night he was just Clark Kent, a bumbling nerd that worked as an intern at The Daily Planet as a reporter. That night he was on a date with the most beautiful woman on Earth.

After the film he and Heather walked to her apartment.

Clark opened his eyes and was met with the sun's warm embrace, the first sight to his eyes, but not just that, he could feel his body soak up the natural energy. He looks to his side and sees the other side of the bed was empty, save a hand written note.

"Got an interview with SecDef. See u back at ur place." It read.

With a sigh Clark gets onto his feet and looks around him. Her apartment seemed much more bigger than his. Then he thought back to his own apartment. It was shabby and cramped compared to this. Heather had expressed thoughts on moving in with him, he told her he was intrigued but in truth he was terrified. To seem so pathetic in her eyes all she needed to do was see where he lived.

And she deserved so much more.

After another fifteen minutes he locked up and departed from her apartment, he had his messenger bag with him and headed for The Daily Planet News building at Central Metropolis. He was taking the route through the Financial District and decided on a coffee before work as well as a quick trip to the bank.

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

The Daily Planet was the central hub for news on current affairs and foreign stories, not just newspapers anymore but websites and news channels, The Planet prided itself in its values and integrity when it comes to obtaining and relaying news, as well as for their clarity. Always being the first at a scene worthy of news, always fact checking at least twenty times at mark speed, then double checked again before they went to print, and never did they try to twist truths. Or at least that's what it said under the logos.

Clark felt that most journalists were expected by their publishers to bend at every whim as accordance to the values and beliefs of the majority. Much like the Daily Star had sought to do, but sometimes when confronted head on, people turn away from the truth. Truth needed to be presented, smoothly, made sure it was edible by the public, not harsh, yet, not lenient either.

He found most of this is the Daily Planet…unfortunately they were a hard institute to get entrance to.

His internship was actually a fluke happenstance that he so happened to be dating one of their anchors. Even more lucky when the Daily Star sunk, while they were dating of course, but Heather saw a good spark in her boyfriend. She wanted him to better not just himself…but the world.

And it all starts with the truth.

Clark laughed, that was probably why he was standing at a coffee machine with a pile of files and folders intended for his mentor.

It was insulting, he thought. She was no older than him—his mentor, someone to show him the ropes. Still, she was better than most of his other mentors. She was a Pulitzer winning reporter apparently, for some articles she wrote about the US Defence Force.

The small café latte in one hand and a pile of files and folders balancing on the palm of the other, Clark made his way to his mentor with haste.

She was at her desk, her phone in hand she was engaged in a heated argument it seemed. Stumbling up to her he placed the coffee by her computer and the collection of papers on the other side. 'Here are the intel and reports on the alleged corruption of Marty Hornigold, Ms Lane,' Clark told her while she remained in frustration. 'I've categorised them in first and second hand sources and interview scripts.' Clark pointed at the pile which she then flipped through. He felt quite pleased with himself. That case had been eating away at him and he was compelled to get to the bottom of this.

Mr Martin Hornigold was a small time business partner of Fate's Law Firm. He had been accused of corruption last year after successfully bribing witnesses, the jury and Judge Chrome, all who then voted the release of serial killer Josh Braden. Braden was son of Multi-millionaire Aaron Braden and as such inherited everything at his father's death. But he didn't stop there. Both Hornigold and Josh Braden were under investigation by District Attorneys.

It seemed strange though, for Clark. They sent three District Attorneys and Law Enforcement agents with strong feelings against them…came out with intentions of testifying against District Attorney Adam Haytham instead, one of the few better enforcers of the law—an idealist.

Lois flicked through the files one last time before slamming the files down. 'You must not have gotten the memo, kid.' Clark moved to rebuke her claims that he was younger than her but was interrupted. 'Hornigold represents the Braden family, kid. Half this city's income comes from their oil company. They are the most powerful family in Metropolis. In short…back off.'

Clark could not believe what he was hearing. 'But…the evidence is—'

'Purely unsubstantial,' she shot back. 'Listen…where do you come from?'

Clark tilted his head questioningly at her. 'Uh, I'm from Smallville, Ms Lane.'

'Listen, Smallville, where you come from, might be this perfect utopia of good morals and do-gooders, saving the day and shaking hands with the bad guys after they willingly turn themselves in…but this is Metropolis…And this is journalism. You'll be expected to bend over more often than none.' And with that she dismissed him and continued her verbal joust with the person on the other line.

Not that it was something like a revelation to Clark, about the harshness of the world…But perhaps he was naïve in thinking it was any different there at the Daily Planet. It was a far more different atmosphere than the Daily Star. Maybe that was why it died.

Walking through the tenth floor, Clark got a glimpse of Heather next to one of her co-anchors at the breakfast table; a brutish man a little taller than him. Handsome face and well-built too—which was why he thought it alright to begin hitting on his girlfriend. Infuriated, Clark made his way to the two.

'Come on, Heather, don't be a tease,' the anchor said, Clark thought his name was Steve Lombard. 'Let me take you out to a nice restaurant for the evening.'

'I said knock it off, Lombard.' Heather quelled.

'Oh, come on, Kelley, just one night at a restaurant, then maybe my pla—'

Lombard was shoved to the side by a pair of strong and firm hands. 'You heard her, sir. She said to knock it off.' There was an uncharacteristic tone in Clark's voice that surprised even him. Lombard chuckled to the other crew members behind him and came to stand before Clark, challengingly, standing above him.

'Big blue boy scout aren't we.' Lombard took a few more steps towards him. He took a cup of coffee from a desk and took a short sip, and with that, Lombard tipped the coffee over Clark's head. The whole room erupted in laughter.

Clark made to retaliate, he really wanted to. Beyond the coffee stained hair and glasses blocking his view, he wanted to strike the man. His fists were clenched, balled so tight they were going red, even for him, and his stance…Clark could feel the ground on which he stood, sinking an inch at his weight. But the look on Heather's face, pleading that he let it go. It triggered something in his heart, his memories.

'It is easy to put all of your strength in a single burst of power, strike your foes, and show them you are in control…' Clark nodded at the man, his black complexion complimented his light garbs. The mosque was quite empty that day, which gave Clark the perfect opportunity…to talk. 'It is the inner strength of the mind and a steady heart that becomes harder, yet it is what is required for true control.'

Clark sighs, sitting on the cushion before a religious leader, in a very strange place for someone like him, someone from the more American parts of America. 'I…need to obtain it…control.'

The man smiled at him, warmly. he watches as even Clark begins to swipe a bit of sweat from his brow, the African heat was getting to him, he was surprised that the man was not at all bothered by it. 'Control of yourself?' he asked.

Clark sighs, 'Of my nature.'

'Nature can never be supressed and have a positive outcome.' He then stood up and gestured for Clark to do the same. 'It can however be channelled. You cannot control your nature…but you can channel it into a purpose.'

'But my powers I…'

'Yes,' again the man smiled, 'I know of your abilities. You are not human.'

Clark looked at him with fear. It was a terror that he was all too familiar with. 'Will you turn me in?'

'Why? You have done nothing wrong.' Clark was taken aback. 'I saw you a few days ago, you saved the people north of here from the militia without spilling a single drop of blood…in lesser time.' The man came up to him and placed a hand on Clark's bearded face. 'You saved my daughter's life that day.'

'But now I need your help, teach me how not to use my abilities. How not to destroy everything I touch.'

Of everything else in the world, it was this stranger's smiles that warmed him, that gave him more reassurance than anything. The man nodded, 'Then it begins with your heart, as everything does.'

**-=O=-**

Clark was drawn back from his past, to the great prick in his present. 'Oh, wait…there it is…'

Again, Clark consider this, him striking him so hard he'd soon reach orbit…but then again, that would be a waste. He took a deep breath in, steadying his heart rate, dancing to a trot. Clark looks up at him and smiles, and then he turns, and walks off. It appeared that that got Heather's attention and she ran off after him. 'Clark! Clark!'

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

'Clark, report in,' came Leanna's voice in his ear. 'An armed gang have infiltrated a high security prison and seek to free some of the world's most dangerous criminals.' Clark was already on the move when she finished, 'Stop them.'

Out of the Daily Planet through a back ally, Clark quickly produced his leather jacket from a hiding place beneath the large bin. After he put it on…he vanished in a blur.

**-=O=-**

**Author's Note: Well I hope you enjoyed reading this so far. There is still a lot of things I need to get sorted out so don't be too disappointed if I'm not updating more frequently. I have another series of fics I wanted to finish. I've already started some so if you wanna check them out that'll be great. **

**For this fic I wanted to give a sort of Birthright feel to it a bit. Have him travel the world searching for identity. I loved how MoS dealt with past events but I didn't like how Jon Kent died or how they made the Kents seem quite weak. I love the Kents a little more than the Els. I hope they rectify that soon. **


	4. First Day Job

**Chapter Three**

**FIRST DAY JOB**

_**LOCATION:**_

_**METROPOLIS, FINANCIAL DISTRICT**_

_**1:00pm**_

The day started off like normal, a Luthor morning, which for Leanna was basically…wondering the mall aimlessly, waiting to hear of trouble for her to report back to Watchtower and summon Clark. As she passes the fountain which stood as a centrepiece for the mall's large square, Leanna saw a glimpse of herself in the bottom of the ropes of water falling. She saw a gloomy, slim girl with no life; grey over coat hiding a black shirt and jeans. Her straight, dark red hair cut short yet able to hide half her face.

There were newspapers all over the place, speaking of mysterious figures in the night outside the Police Station, leaving behind handful of criminals ranging from organised gangsters and thugs. Leanna felt somewhat proud of their progress. Clark even left a note telling authorities when one of the criminals were addicts or had problems in which they'd need medical help.

She heard them…the people in the square, talking about her when they thought she couldn't hear, and she probably couldn't if it weren't for the hearing enhancer hidden in her ear, feeding her with so much junk it hurt.

'…Isn't that that Luthor girl?' said one of the women by the other side of the fountain to another in hushed tones.

'I hate her,' said the other.

'You hate her daddy, Mary.'

The first woman shrugged. 'They're all the same, you'll see. Mr Luthor would definitely train her in the dark arts and before you know it, you're evicted from your home in favour of a casino or something.'

'Mary, just drop it. They provided with compensation didn't they?'

Mary shook her head. 'They gave us free access to the new Tropical Casino for a year. Jules, they exploited Fred's addiction and now we're in debt! She'll be exactly the same.'

Lea couldn't take it anymore and walked off.

Despite being a multimillionaire, Leanna never was the type that…what was the expression? Shopped 'till she dropped? Anyway, she was a more practical woman. Even during her early childhood and high school years she was more a recluse, mostly it was because of her last name. Luthor was the notorious name for power akin to tyranny. It wasn't until she went to Harvard University that she met Clark Kent and finally she had a friend.

Apparently Clark had spent a year or two abroad prior to term—learning to control. After she found out about his powers, they formed a team of sorts.

She walked through the street of Metropolis in silence; she found it a best time to defrag her mind. In her mental solitude she passed several people, children missing their parents, elderly crossing the road, and the disabled, stuck on the inside of the roads. Leanna just looked at them, conflicted…but neither scenario managed to capture her attention…not for long.

There was a tower in Metropolis a few kilometres within High Town, bought by Luthor's classified accounts for off the books projects his dad casually frequents. The thing is Leanna knew everything there was about that account. Password, proxy name and where the funds were coming from. She figured if her dad wasn't using money raised for charity properly, then she'd use some of it for a certain kind of good.

The building was abandoned, and wasn't opening any interest from anywhere, thus she bought it and now, entering to the very top floor, the doors opened, and the computers, sensing her presence, had begun start-up.

_Access Number 002, Granted…Welcome back Guardian_, came the monotone voice of the Tower's AI.

Leanna approached her workstation. More than a dozen monitors opened to different tabs, one of which was flashing. Leanna turned to her right where the screen reported a situation her contact had picked up.

'Something's going on at Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary,' said the disguised voice. 'My guess is it's going to be a massive break out. We need your guy to help out. This is one job the cops can't help.'

'I need intel, Watchman.'

'A gang originally from Gotham has infiltrated Belle Reve. Motive are unknown as of yet.'

A slight grin appeared on Leanna's face. 'I'm on it.' She put her headset on and immediately called for Clark. 'Clark, report in.' She loved this job. Despite being a Luthor, where she should be spending her times in bars, her mornings nursing hangovers, she finally felt she was doing something about the state the world was in. She had even thought about expanding. 'An armed gang have infiltrated a high security prison and seek to free some of the world's most dangerous criminals. Stop them.'

The whooshing sound from the other end told her he was on the move. She smiles… 'Game on.'

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

If ever a building could be master of deception, it was Belle Reve Penitentiary in Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana. From the outside it looked like a utopia, clean walls, high technological security systems, friendly staff and guards, it looked as though people could feel very secure, both in and out.

For those admitted however, was a different story…a darker story.

Somehow, anything with Federal in its name meant trouble. Belle Reve did not only house common criminals, they housed criminals the pubic had yet to know existed. Each inmate had abilities that were quite contrary to their appearances.

People have heard of Area 51. An urban legend to most, this was similar, yet the fact it existed in plain sight was what set it apart. What made Belle Reve flourish in a quite urban population growing around it was the fact that despite it being a house for the criminally deranged, it was peaceful. No annoying noise of inmates screaming, yelling or brawling for release, was what drew a lot of people around it. Low costing homes, school admissions, police force and shopping malls meant it was quite complete for families.

Now however, that peace was being threatened. Four armed assailants had actually infiltrated the sanatorium, quite easily in fact. Head count came with a highly trained marksman, manning a heavy sniper with such ease that he could even do close up combat with it and win. Though half his face was covered by a metal plate on the right side of his face, finished by a red glowing eye piece, the gurads could make out a wide grin as he gunned down their friends and colleagues.

There was another, a man with a scarf and boomerangs sharpened to the point they decapitated seventeen guards in one go. There was a man in bright orange and yellow Chinese traditional garments. He moved like a ninja, no weapons but his knowledge of extreme martial arts was unseen before.

Then there was the only female of the gang. A woman dressed in what seemed like punk rock sort of clothing, coloured red and black, negatives of each other—red and black jeans, corset and spikes on her boots and a collar around her neck. She seemed not to have any speciality except her enthusiasm for death and her collection of knives and guns.

At that moment they were taking heavy fire from an army of guards. After a few more moments, they began to chuck in their smoke grenades, the area was covered. 'Hurry up, kangaroo boy, get the out!'

'Oi, do I make stupid stereotypical shots at you, Deadshot?' the boomerang thrower retorted, trying to hack his way through the sanatorium's mainframe. He was getting close. Behind him, the shooter covered him while the ninja took out snipers from above the courtyard's seven levels and the only woman in their team joined Deadshot, firing with near precision. She killed half a dozen men at a time, all with a smile on her face.

She had scars on her face, giving the illusion of a smile wider than a mouth should allow. 'Ooh, new High Score, I beat you Bullets!'

'Shut it, Harley!' the Australian yelled back. 'Almost there.'

'Take you time dude!' said Deadshot with as much sarcasm as his situation allowed, which was still quite a lot.

The Australian rolled his eyes. 'Asshole,' he muttered.

Though the grounds seemed littered in bodies of guards, there seemed to be no end in them, even from above, the ninja guy threw men off the ledges, even women, letting it rain over. It was a massacre.

With a few more minutes on the clock, they continued…that was until a crash from above startled them all, and from the skies fell a man, landing on his feet. A man in red leather jacket that bore a strange symbol on his chest, a pair of shades over his eyes, a Metropolis Monarchs Baseball cap and a sort of scarf covering his mouth and nose area, stood before them, in a crater he left behind on entry.

They all ceased their firing. Or at least for a while, until Harley, after a few moments of admiring the man's physique, fired the first shot at the mystery man. Her action triggered more than her gun as the entire room now erupted in gunfire, all directed at him. To which they saw their shots simply bounced off him, leaving barely a single scratch.

The man looked around and then walked over to Deadshot as if he wasn't being shot at with rounds. 'Alright, Watchtower, I see 'em.' With that his eyes, focussed on the weapons in their hands, his eyes turned red.

Both Deadshot's sniper and Harley's duel pistols heated up, causing them to flinch and drop them. After that, the ninja leaped from the fourth floor, expecting to catch the mysterious man off guard. You could imagine the surprise he got when he made contact. It was like he had missed the man completely and landed face first on the concrete floor.

The man continued to walk by, leaving the ninja clutching his bleeding nose.

'What the hell are you?!' cried Deadshot.

The man stopped a few inches away from him. 'I'm here to stop you, sir.'

Deadshot gave him a lopsided grin. He had a circular red eyepiece on his right eye which helped his aim immensely. He opened it to reveal the eye for a better examination of the man. 'I think you're fighting on the wrong side, boy.'

The man held his ground. Then the Australian appeared from behind the woman. 'It's done, mate…'

The sound of clanking echoed for minutes as door after door opened, and monster from every form came pouring out. The inmates, so happy to be free of their confinement flooded from every corridor, one of them a giant of grey complexion with what seemed like different variations of knives and swords stuck on his back and a noose around his neck came charging in from behind Deadshot.

Clark braced himself as the monster threw a punch which hurled him across the prison. He was able to anchor himself on the ground, leaving again, a trail in front of him. He then charged at the beast, seeing the monster's next attack, Clark ducked and then spun around. The momentum he created was able to embed his punch with a force that threw the freed monster even further in.

From among the crowd of criminals, Clark saw the gang rally together. Deadshot with his smile fixed on wicked as he told him, 'This is who _we_ fight for, kid. Think about a while…then come find me.'

That was the last Clark saw of him as they all vanished amidst the chaos. Clark sighed. He looked around him, he watches scuttling around for the exit, for freedom. To an ordinary person, would probably react with exaggerated fear and terror and confusion. To Clark, it was only confusion. He had never seen the likes. So many…freaks around him, everyone so different, whether it was outer appearance or not. Some had even been given an uncomfortable looking collar device around their neck that beeped.

As Clark watched them scurrying along, seemingly unaware of his presence, Clark just stood mortified on the spot. What was he to do now? But as the smoke cleared he knew he had but one thing to do.

He kicked off the wall behind him and using it as a boost he started a momentum. Locking on the many faces and with a long huff, he put super speed to work.

In no time, Clark had successfully rounded up the many criminals back into their cells. But before leaving the prison…he took another look at the men and women he captured. Their saddened faces were a lot to go on. In some way it tore him, inside. What was he doing? He truly knew little about Belle Reve.

There was even a small child, a girl no older than ten years old, looking up at him with…disgust. She seemed strange, abnormally bright orange skin that cashed with the prison jumpsuit, blank green eyes and long crimson hair. She was muttering something. What she said had left Clark utterly speechless.

Her disgusted face had warped into one of sadness, of disappointment. She continued to mutter the same things this time in a more sincere, rage-less tone. It took every fibre in his body to ignore her. After all, this was a sanatorium, she must have been in here for a reason that he did not know about.

But until he did, the inmates there had to stay where they were, sadly enough.

One of the officers left approached him with praise. 'Thanks, sir. Thanks for the help. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.' Clark examined him. The guard seemed timid, nervous. His young face and clean shaven look told Clark he was perhaps a new employee. Clark nodded and in a flash he was gone, leaving the timid guard in even more bafflement.

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

Clark spent hours on his desk at the Tower, poring through file after file, website after website and testimony after goddamn testimony, all on the subject of Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary. The mysterious ward secrets, and now he knew some of them.

For years he'd thought he was the only one…different, an abnormality…a freak. He'd spent years thinking that, thinking that he was cursed, forever to live alone, with the fear of being hated, of being feared. Strangely, he feared ending up like the inmates of Belle Reve.

Clark groaned as he closed another file. The Watchtower was quiet, though Lea had not gone home yet. This caused Clark to look her way—seated at her workstation she scrolled through the data she'd picked up on Belle Reve's happenings.

He was reminded of what the little orange girl. '_You were supposed to be one of us,_' she said. _'You were supposed to be one of us…'_

What did she mean? Did she know his secret? That he was a freak?

Clark was suddenly thrown back in time—Smallville, more than twenty five years ago. A field of grown crops of corn, once green and full of life, now left in a forest of flames crackling around him. he was on the dirt ground by his bike, completely abandoned, his eyes covering his face, most importantly his eyes.

He had done this? Burnt his father's hard work? And he could not stop, he could feel it…that fire, the energy in his eyes, wanting nothing more than release.

Clark remembered, he was so scared, that was until he felt great and muscular arms hugging him. All of a sudden, Clark of five years-old relaxed, but his eyes, still going had transformed into tears. 'I'm a monster!' he cried.

'Hay,' Clark was taken out of his reverie by familiar hands and a warm smile. He returns that smile to her. 'You okay, Clark?'

'I'm fine Lea,' he responded as earnestly as possible. 'I've just been…thinking. Did you get any information on those guys that tried to free inmates out of Belle Reve?'

Leanna presented to him a compiled file of about six pages. 'Not much,' she confessed. 'The gunman is Floyd Lawton. An assassin for hire, famous in Gotham City as being one of the best shots there is. Hence why they call him—'

'Deadshot.' Clark finished for her, transfixed by the photos of the assailants. 'And the others?'

Leanna blushed, she was used to it or she liked to think that. But what else could she do? She couldn't possible tell her best friend she though he was hot. She staggered again to recompile her train of thought. _Gosh…I had an entire presentation planned out!_ 'Umm, I…right…The ninja here is Ben Turner,' she then ran to her workstation and with a single press of a button…the entire room exploded into a brilliant array of light that resembled the computer monitors. Each wall showed a full mug shot including body shot of the assailants. 'Now, you might know Turner from all those karate demos. He's a martial artist, got a dojo in Central City…well…he had a dojo. Get this—last year Turner was convicted for the murder of his students. I cross-referenced the murder and it resembles a lot the Braden case as well. And representing the State against Turner was…'

Clark sighed, 'George Greene from Fate's Law Firm.'

'Exactly,' she then moved a pointer to her desk and the screens changed into a web. 'I began compiling this—'

'Wait,' Clark interrupted her, 'compiled? I just told you about what happened at Belle Reve not three hours ago. How'd you uncover and compile all this?'

Again, Leanna's cheeks turned scarlet and in a modest fashion, she shrugged his appraisal but not without thanking him for it and telling him that she had her ways with computers—a fact Clark already knew. 'The last guy…or gall, is…I had difficulty with face recognition but I think I got a match to Dr Harleen Quinzel, a renowned specialist in the field of behavioural psychologist at Arkham Asylum. That's in Gotham City. She was convicted of corruption of a different form, said that she was a serial killer, responsible for thirteen deaths, an allegation that thanks to Fate's Law, had her thrown in her own asylum.'

'She seemed creepy when I saw her.'

'That's because she underwent shock therapy that ultimately restarted some of her and being housed in a mental institute like the one in Gotham City changed her. She became…infatuated by one inmate in particular, became sort of a copycat.'

'But she didn't kill anyone?'

'Not anymore.' Leanna looked at the picture of the crazed woman. 'She was recruited by this gang. They'd been about here and there, breaking into military installations and freeing prisoners that ultimately began the oil wars anew in the Middle-East.'

Clark nodded his understanding. Their hearts were in the right place that much was sure. No telling what these people had been through. 'Alright, I'll take the file home and study it, try to connect them. I'll have to go arrange a meeting with Hornigold next week.'

Leanna raised a brow questioningly, 'Next week, why?'

'I'm only an intern, Lea,' he said, humbling himself by lowering his gaze. 'Next week, Perry's giving me a position. Then I'll be able to snoop around, start asking questions.' It was Clark's gorgeous smile that usually made Leanna's day and usually before he leaves he'd peck her on the forehead—a completely platonic gesture of course, but still.

'I'll see you tomorrow then.' She says, he smiles and then she's alone again, but she did not mind. It was the getting home and dealing with her dad that she had problems with. This was why she often stayed at the Tower for hours after midnight and when she gets home, her father would beret her, thinking she'd been out all night at clubs, getting drunk and sleeping with hunks. Though she did normally do that anyway, it was not a common occurrence.

Clark on the other hand, could not wait to get home. He was tired and had a lot to think about. There was something going on at Belle Reve. There were so many different people that did not look like a threat to the public, locked away in that prison, and they looked less than happy...less than healthy even.

Clark sighed, kicking off his boots and making his way to the bedroom. He sighed though when he reached his room. There was a man snoring there, he looked inside to see some red hair. Jimmy must have gotten kicked out of his girlfriend's place and found it necessary to bunk at his place. He hadn't learned that that was Clark's room, and the guest room was…well he didn't quite have one… 'I guess it's the couch then,' Clark groaned.

**-=O=-**

* * *

><p><strong>-=O=-<strong>

A man in a trench coat trudged through the thickets, he tries to avoid any contact with the city, and thus he stays in Central Park. What was he going to do?

He tries, hard, to hide his body, its luminescent glow, may seem beautiful but…

He is startled by the muffled screams of a woman whose mouth is covered with force. Albert peers out to his side and is in shock to see a woman being held, quite forcefully against a rock by a tall man. Her struggles and his crazed face told him that she was definitely being held against her will.

It looked so much like how she looked when they took her away from him…he snaps. Runs at the man, grabs his arm and tries to shove him off. It did not give the outcome he was expecting and it happened. 'Hay, leave that woman a—'

He was cut off by a loud screaming that echoed beyond the trees. The man, the would-be-rapist was screaming his lungs out as…Albert's hand, touching the exposed arm... a hot sizzling noise…quickly Albert threw his hand away and to his own horror, the rapist's hand began to dry up, not just dry up but shrivel, turned to dust as it fell off.

The man clutched his arm, but the effects did not end there as he felt whatever this was, travel up and around his body. He fell to the ground as his entire being was reduced to ash and with a shriek…vanished, into a pile of dust on the grass.

The woman did not fare better as she yelled and screamed for help. Albert tried to calm her down but by the contact of his hand on shoulder, now bare, she too succumbed. Albert backed away, forced to watch in horror, like a nightmare replaying in his mind, the woman's screams, so deafening as the first parts of her to break were her own legs. On the floor she howled in pain…so much pain. Albert did not know what to do. He was helpless. Like he was back then…

Then finally…the screams died down…it was silence. Albert was mortified, rooted to the spot by sheer terror. What had he done? What had happened to him?!

In his terror, his moment of anguish at what he did and what he was becoming—he roared into the night, bats and birds all flew in their own fear. What had become of Albert Michaels? As he roared, Albert grew, his anger and fear manifesting, turning into something else, an emotion so base it had to be divine. Rage!

**-=O=-**

**Author's Note: I hope this chapter has not disappointed some of you, it isn't my best because I was in a hurry but felt like I needed to update it anyway. Please check out my other works as well, it does not end here. **

**This iteration of Superman has been bugging me for ages. I think it started with a conversation on why a Superman game would never be awesome, even if it was made by Rocksteady, already responsible for the Batman Arkham games. Anyway, my argument was that gameplay would depend on the story. The problem with a Superman game is that he will become too powerful, and in being so, gets a bit boring. So I made the argument that if you do a Superman game more focussed on his origins, before flight and all his extra powers because that's usually where the issues lie, then you could get an awesome game.**

**This story was what I got from that argument. This chapter however was just an experiment on introducing characters familiar in the DC Universe. Please review and inform me on your opinions on them. Gracie.**


End file.
